Mia’s POV

“I—I don’t do these stuffs Mr. Thomas…really…”

I stare nervously at the little plastic bag in my client Mr. Thomas’ hand, which contains a few pink tablets. I saw how other people in this booth swallowed these and got sky high, even their eyes started rolling. Whatever this is, it’s gotta be stronger than weed.

But my weak protest is drowned by the loud music playing in the background. Seeing the reluctant look on my face, Mr. Thomas darts me a glare and threatens loudly, “Don’t be a fucking buzz kill Mia.”

I can hardly maintain the professional smile on my face as I instead raise the glass of my champagne, “But I can drink some more Sir.”

At least that pleased him. He starts laughing, directly into my face. His breath is terrible, smelling like sour alcohol and rotten fish, which makes me want to puke.

It’s 2:00 already. And I’m exhausted.

I accompanied my client Mr. Thomas to a fundraising event tonight and spent hours standing by his side looking pretty and laughing at their boring jokes.

Being a call girl, it’s what I do. I come to these parties, galas and social events with wealth men and entertain them and their business partners and get my commission fee afterwards.

My job should have ended 4 hours ago when we got out of the fundraising thing. But I couldn’t say no to Mr. Thomas when he insisted on bring me to this fancy club for a round 2.

So now I’m stuck here, with a bunch of drunken men.

There are already 7-8 empty bottles on the table. Everyone has been pounding champagne and spirit nonstop. And Mr. Thomas’ hand is coming dangerously close to my butt.

The situation is getting out of control.

I finish the glass and turn to Mr. Thomas again, plucking up my courage, “Mr. Thomas it’s been a lovely evening, but I’m afraid I must go now…I have another commission early tomorrow morning and Madelyn will kill me if I miss it—”

Madelyn is the manager of the club I work for. I always use her as an excuse when I can’t get rid of difficult clients.

“Fuck it!” he says loudly, spitting terribly while talking. “Cancel! Bail! Whatever! I paid 500 for you! You’re not fucking leaving!”

He wraps an arm around my waist drawing me closer, his groping hand traveling up and down between my chest and waist. I quiver under his touch.

There are always these horny clients who require for more services than I have signed up for.

Yet I can’t just blow them in the face and tell them to fuck off. If I do that, I’ll lose my commission fee and these wealthy men can be very vindictive once their self-esteem is hurt.

I silently endure his behavior while thinking whether I should excuse myself to the restroom and just leave. Mr. Thomas would be pissed after finding out I escaped, but hopefully the terrible hang-over next morning will make him forget everything.

Yet before I can say anything, he suddenly grabs my waist picking me up and sets me on this lap. I let out a sharp gasp as he buries his face into my chest.

“Fuck you slut—” he slurs drunkenly, “—got nice boobs.”

I struggle against his iron grip, “Wait…hold on a—”

He grunts, his chunky chest raising and falling rapidly under excitement. I can feel his other hand traveling up my upper thigh and coming close to my—

I spring up and blurt out, “NO!!”

Our little fuzz has drawn everyone’s attention in the booth, and they are all staring at us. Mr. Thomas freezes, a raging look gradually revealing on his enormous face.

“Look like your whore’s got a temper,” one of the business partners teases.

Mr. Thomas’ face twists in anger while glaring at me, “What’s your fucking matter now!”

I clench my fists uneasily. No, I can’t afford to cross him. I’m in desperate need of money right now. Can’t lose the commission fee.

So I slowly put up a reluctant smile, “…Nothing. I just need to fix my make-up. I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Mr. Thomas narrows his eyes at me. After a little pause, he snorts and raises up as well, wabbling a little.

“I need to go piss,” he says idly. “I’m with you.”

Ah oh. My heart sinks. This is not good.

But I can think of no valid reason to say no before he slumps half of his body weight on my shoulder and seizes me to the restroom.

We come across the crowded dancefloor and make our way towards the restroom. His huge body is crushing down on me. I can barely stand straight.

I was a bit concerned this nightclub may have a gender-neutral restroom and makes it harder for me to escape Mr. Thomas. But by the time we get there, I’m relieved to find that the lady’s and gentleman’s restroom stands on opposite side of the corridor, both fancily decorated.

This is a very classy nightclub, nevertheless. Mr. Thomas even bragged about getting a reservation early today.

I immediately want to run into the lady’s room, to get some space along. But a strong force stops me from moving in my direction and shoves me sideways. I let out of a horrified cry and am dragged into the men’s room by Mr. Thomas.

“NO—What are you doing—”

My screaming is stifled by his large hand the next second.

“Shut the fuck up!” he snarls clamping my mouth shut and kicks the door open, forcing me in. There are a few customers using the urinals, who all snap their heads around to us in shock. I want to cry for help but he has tossed me in a stall and locks the door behind us.

“Umm—NO—I don’t—” my desperate screaming escapes from gaps between his fingers. I hear him curses under his breath behind me and he lands a hot slap on my butt.

“Fucking stay still!” he hisses, grabbing both of my waists within one hand and using the other hand to tug up my dress. “This can’t be your first time getting fucked in the man’s room huh? I’ll throw in another 100 after this. Stick up your ass bitch!”

He presses down on the back of my neck roughly, forcing me to bend over the toilet.

“No…HELP—Stop please—”

I scream in terror, struggling violently against him but failed. He is a large man who can pick me up with one hand. My little resistance is pathetic.

I hear the rattling sound of his buckles. And the next second my panty is pulled down, exposing my bottom.

No…

Desperate tears stream down my cheeks.

I’m going to get raped.

Mr. Thomas grabs my waist and is ready to vent his urge when a knock comes from the door of our little stall.

“Sir,” a voice says politely from aside. “Please step out of the stall.”

“FUCK OFF!”

Mr. Thomas roars back. And I immediately take this chance to cry for help, “Help! Please! Help me—”

“Shut your hole you crazy bitch!!” he snarls pulls my hair causing me to wince in pain.

“Sir,” the voice from outside insists, “If you refuse to step out, I’ll have to call the police.”

Mr. Thomas swears furiously but finally releases me. I drop down on the ground, shivering in fear. The door swings open and reveals a manager looking man standing outside.

“What’s your fucking problem, huh?!” Mr. Thomas snaps at the man, pointing a finger at him, “This is your customer’s fucking privacy here!”

“We saw you force this lady in here and we heard her crying for help,” the manger’s tone remains polite yet aloof. “I’d appreciate it if you can leave this lady alone.”

“Lady my ass!” Mr. Thomas roars back frantically, “That’s my whore! A fucking prostitute! I fucking paid for her you hear me?!”

I shake my head desperately.

No he is lying…I didn’t sign up for this…I made it clear before that I don’t sleep with clients but he just chose to ignore it…

“I’m afraid that I need to ask you to leave,” the manager’s tone turns cold.

“The fuck you are! I’m your fucking customer! I fucking paid! Where’s your boss! I demand to see your boss!”

“I’m the manager here,” the man says coolly. “If you are talking about the owner of this nightclub, it’s Mr. Hill. Yet I’m afraid Mr. Hill is too busy to deal with these trifles.”

There’s a short silence.

Mr. Thomas gulps down. And when he speaks up again, the rage in his voice magically vanishes and is replaced by a hint of fear, “…M—Mr. Hill?”

I stare at the manager in a daze.

I’ve heard about this name before, over parties, events and dinners and it is all people can talk about in recent months. They said this mysterious Mr. Hill is the heir to a very prestigious family in Europe and just relocated back to New York. Everyone in the Upper East is dying to meet him now.

Mr. Thomas would never cross with such a huge figure, just like I can’t afford to cross Mr. Thomas.

“Are we going to have more problems, Sir?” the manager pursues.

“No, no, of course not…” Mr. Thomas simpers, fumbling out a business card out of his suit. “In fact I would be honored to be introduced to Mr. Hill…”

He hands in his business card. But the manager ignores it.

“You can contact his office directly for business inquires,” the manager replies coldly. “Well then, have a pleasant evening.”

He nods at me before leaving the man’s room.

I struggle to pull myself up and am about to escape the scene. But a large hand grabs my arm the next second. I jerk around in terror and meet with Mr. Thomas’ evil eyes.

“You think this is over?” he hisses, “You fucking ruined my night! Let’s hear what Madelyn says about this.”